If any part of the human body was especially cursed during the Fall, it was my hair. There’s simply no other explanation for why a child can have haircuts so bad, this deleterious to the human eye, and still survive.
How else could a small child have bangs that start at the back of her head, actually BEHIND her ears, and still be let out in public? How else could the ozone and polar bears survive the three cans of hairspray it must have taken to keep said bangs in place? How else could my middle sister’s bangs actually create a small circular pattern like a deli pinwheel? Or my oldest sister’s hair have a wave that actually moves backwards? This kind of hair is either the result of the Fall or some sort of scientific phenomenon . . . or what Winston Churchill meant when he talked about enigmas wrapped in riddles inside mysteries.And as long as we’re on the topic of atrocities, I’ll admit that I’m no good at history. But was there ever a time, other than Kim Jong Il’s election, that glasses the size of SUV windshields were acceptable?
Really, Mom, how could you let us out of the house like this? Was it some sort of sadistic joke? Were you secretly getting me back for being a horribly annoying, colicky baby? Because if that’s the case, I’m sorry. I’m sorry, ok? Sorry!
But why? Why, Mom? I need to know. It’s like you thought, “You know what will really accessorize those gigantor glasses and show off that flowery, floral print tent of a dress my daughter’s wearing? A clip with four plastic rabbits glued to it, that’s what!” I suspect you then let loose with a sort of maniacal, demonic laugh. And then put a horse head in my bed. And then drove over my new puppy. Oh, wait. That was my oldest sister. (No, really. She did that.)
No one should be subjected to have to look at flashback pictures like these because, if we’re being honest, we can all acknowledge that there’s not enough Tylenol PM in the world to make the dull, aching pain in my eyes, caused by just glimpsing these photos, go away. Maybe acid will do the trick.
Or bleach.
Or gouging them out.
Or anthrax.
Feel free to bow out at any point. I’ll be here all night.